The Prophesy of the Fifth House
by Dassadec
Summary: Actions by the founders of Hogwarts have far reaching consequences on the future of magic. Story focused from veiwpoints other than from Harry Potter's perspective. Pairings as yet undecided, but definite Susan x OC.
1. Prologue: 11 July

**Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter. Harry Potter is owned by J. K. Rowling and anyone to which she has licensed her stories. I do own the character concepts that went into the creation of my original characters. The Harry Potter novels and movies have been used to create a setting for this story.**

**Warning: This story contains mature themes and should not be read by anyone under the age of 16.**

**Prologue: 11 July**

Birthdays are supposed to be fun and exciting, but up till now this one has been a disaster. One would think that a witch's eleventh birthday would be a special day, but no, I get stuck with my Uncle Simon shopping for my Hogwarts supplies. Yes, getting the letter of acceptance was thrilling and yes, shopping is usually fun, but Uncle Simon is creepy weird.

Of all the witches and wizards born into our family, he was the first Sytherin in over a century. Mostly we are usually sorted into Hufflepuf or Ravenclaw with the occasional Gryphondor, but Sytherins are few and far between. His sorting caused a great uproar when he was young, but over the years he has mellowed from scary, creepy weird to what he is today.

One nice thing about Simon is that he always manages to keep you on your toes both physically and mentally. During this little "Excursion" as he called it, we played mental games. Some were kind of tiring like paying for the cauldron and phials entirely in Knuts and the telescope entirely in Sickles. Some were fun like playing 'Simon Says/Orders' and 'I Spy'. Some were amusing as he started in on his "How Women Are Different" speech after I bought three times the required numbers of clothes. It's not my fault that that they had so many different types of dragon hide gloves now is it?

After "The Great Wardrobe Debacle" as he was starting to call it; he thought that the pet search should begin. And, as such, the most logical place to go would be the Magical Menagerie, his favorite pet store. Personally I thought that he liked it only because it was one of the few places that sold Jarveys. Uncle Simon has always been a bit bonkers about Jarveys. He even works in the Ministry's of Magical Creatures Jarvey Department. Turns out that the other reason he liked the store was looking at the new and old interesting creatures that appeared in the store. One of his favorite pastimes, as I was about to find out, was looking for the mysterious creature that was writing 'The Rhyme'. Little did I know that my life was about to change forever…


	2. The Creature

**Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter. Harry Potter is owned by J. K. Rowling and anyone to which she has licensed her stories. I do own the character concepts that went into the creation of my original characters. The Harry Potter novels and movies have been used to create a setting for this story.**

**Warning: This story contains mature themes and should not be read by anyone under the age of 16.**

**Chapter 1: The Creature**

"Estelle, it is so good to see you again," Simon said to the witch behind the counter.

"Simon, always a pleasure, and who is this young lass?"

"Oh, I'm sorry, this is my niece. She's about to attend Hogwarts for the first time this fall, so I've come to show her the place. Has the Rhyme been added to since I was here last?"

"As a matter of fact it has. There is a ninth stanza now."

"Uncle, what is this Rhyme that you are talking about?"

"Oh, it is the most mysterious thing about this place," Estelle interrupted. "Ever since the founding of this shop, one of the creatures here has been writing a very strange poem and remained hidden from view while doing it. Would you both care to see the new version?"

"Yes, please!" we both chorused.

With a startled look and a wave of her wand, Estelle disillusioned the countertop. And there carved into the surface was a poem. As we were reading it, Estelle was explaining, for my benefit, the story of how it was believed that the creature might be some sort of gargoyle because of the second stanza…

**How Long Must I Wait?**

How long must I wait?

I lay here on my shelf asleep

With nary a peep

Until my owner shows her lovely gait.

I sleep in the day.

I sleep at night.

I look quite the fright,

My stone visage keeping people at bay.

How long must I wait?

I wake every nine years

To eat a few ears

That always seems to number eight.

Every nine score

I delegate to dine

On something Divine.

Should I ask for anything more?

How long must I wait?

Had a rude conversation with a Jarvey,

Over a plate of some larvae.

Silly humans have taken to leaving out bait.

(Don't be hasty;

They are quite tasty!)

I sit and I seek

A core of unique magic

That would otherworldly be tragic,

The prophesy to wreak.

How long must I wait?

I've woken a hundred times

Making up these rhymes,

Sitting here in my crate.

A young girl of nine

For her digression

She'll be my possession,

Our fates to be twine.

How long must I wait

To be reborn

We are both borne.

Until I find my mate?

I was fine up until the eighth stanza where suddenly my blood ran cold. I had a sudden flashback to my ninth birthday party. In a fit of accidental magic in response to something Luna Lovegood said I had broken a family heirloom that was reputably over nine hundred years old.

With great courage and foreboding I read the last stanza. A shiver went up my spine like someone had walked over my grave at the end of the poem. After I read the last word I continued to stare ate the poem, dumbstruck. Then the most peculiar thing happened. A low, deep, rumbling voice started to speak the poem from the beginning. As it did so, the stanzas started to glow as if backlit with different colors of light. The first stanza black, second was violet, third was indigo, fourth was blue, fifth was green, sixth was yellow, seventh was orange, eighth was red, and ninth was white. The back of my mind registered the rainbow colors while the front was focused on the two green eyes staring at me from a wooden crate directly behind the counter from the poem.

Somewhere in the far reaches of consciousness I heard my trembling voice, "U-un-uncle I-I'd l-l-l-like to see tha-that one."

Recovering some of her wits at the sound of my voice, Estelle intoned, "Odd, I've never seen that crate before… Hmm, I can't seem to find the door… Oh! There it is!" she said as she pointed to the top of the crate. She then attempted to physically move the crate, but it would not budge. She sighed and pulled out her wand, "Wingardium Leviosa!" resulting in a floating cage that still refused to be moved. "Simon, could you try a locomotis spell please?"

Simon obliged by retrieving his wand from his wrist holster and spelling the floating crate with, "Locomotis!"

With his help the crate ever so slowly moved to the countertop where Estelle and Simon released their spells. THUD!!!! The counter stood creaking after the centimeter drop. Several, "Supportus!" spells transfigured supports caused the ominous creaking to stop.

"Whew! That crate is a doozy! You would almost think that it was made of osmium wood," Estelle exclaimed.

"You would if the color wasn't off. No, I think this is made of something else," Simon spoke up.

"Huh? I can't see the unlocking mechanism for the lid," Estelle said.

During this entire ordeal for the adults my eyes had never left the green orbs staring back at me. At Estelle's comment, I absentmindedly ran my fingers over nine inconspicuous knots in the wood on the lid. As I touched the ninth knot the lock sprang open with a faint click. Still highly dazed I easily opened the lid of the crate. Luck was on the side of the counter in that the crate lid was hinged.

Inside was the most peculiar creature. He had the shell of a turtle and no fur to speak of. Nine centimeter long ears that reminded me of rabbit ears sat atop his head. The head features were most strange. While looking through the crate the forward looking eyes were round, but now they appeared to be slits like a cat's. The face reminded me of a dragon; long glistening white teeth visible when it licked my hand with a rough grey tongue. Grey cat or rabbit like whiskers adorned his face. A long twenty-two or twenty-three centimeter cat like tail was visible as I removed him from the box and set him on the countertop for further examination. His feet were quite interesting. They all had five toes, but the front two looked like they may have opposable thumbs. The retractable claws were a bit odd since there were two different sets to each toe. One set of claws was curved and sharp like a cat's, and the other set was long like a rabbit's.

Tentatively I started to pet him and found that his colors could change. His skin was of a green so dark that that it was almost black. His shell, however, was a midnight black straight out of the box. As I started petting him a low rumbling purr began along with a shimmering green quality to the surface of the shell.

"So pretty…," escaped my lips.

In response the shimmering green color started to form whorls with rose tinges and the purring got louder.

Bemusedly Simon looked on when he noticed something in the crate, "Look, a scroll."

Still idly petting the creature, I reached in and grabbed it. Stopping the petting I unrolled the parchment and read to myself the contents of the scroll.

To: The beautiful girl who opened the crate

From: The creature in the Box.

Hello, my name is Xander. I'm a male Xand, (Pronounced Zăn-dt′; soft "a" like in sand; almost silent "d" sound; strong accented "t" sound.) I'm really excited about getting to know you.

There are a few guidelines that you should know about my care:

Be aware that magic cast on me by anyone other than you with your own wand will have odd, strange, and sometimes dangerous side effects. In general, if it is possible, ask first before casting spells on me.

For Hogwarts pet restrictions I can easily fit into turtle, cat, or rabbit classifications.

I was put into that crate as you can surmise from the poem over nine hundred years ago, so I do not have a Ministry of Magic Classification. Though secretly I'd probably fall under either sentient being or XXXX status.

If you want to talk to me go ahead, but I'll only generally answer in a private place. I'm not being rude; I'm just shy.

Food! We'll discuss the specialty food that I require in private. I really like muggle sweets. A growing Xand needs his sugar, and lots of it! Ice cream is usually good to eat. I'm not particularly fond of ears or larvae anymore, so you needn't worry about that.

Your wand is in a vault at the London branch of Gringotts. I have the key, which I will give you after two helpings of one of my special foods. We'll discuss the details of the transaction next month.

As part of the magic behind the bonding process you will think of, or meet many of your true friends between our initial meeting and when you acquire your wand.

Take the crate and this parchment with you. They may be needed later. You will find that the graviton and impulse wards have been turned off.

Your guardian owes the lady behind the counter one marriage proposal and nine electrum for storage fees. They have my blessing for the marriage. Tell them to hurry up and tie the knot. They've been lovey-dovey for long enough.


End file.
